Hope is the Thing With Feathers On
by The Boisterous Anomaly
Summary: Ian, the Metacrisis clone, likes chickens. He doesn't like needles. Or, come to think of it, chickens. Ten2/Rose fluff, complete crackfic, read at your own risk. Especially at work.


Hope is the Thing With Feathers (Actually, it's about needles really…) : a fluff (possible crack? Crack. Good. ) fic, in which we own nothing (unfortunately). But Hope.

(Oh the things we do at two in the morning...)

"Rose," he said flatly, "You're being silly. It's just a chicken."

"I can't help it! It's just so… so clucky… It's a childhood thing, okay?" Rose Tyler whined, backing away slowly from the feathered menace. Ian dropped his head, muffling his giggles. He had never seen Rose so uncomfortable. About a chicken.

"It's not an _it_, she's a lady chicken. Where _are_ your manners?" he huffed, reaching down to pick up the offending chicken. She clucked rudely at him, complaining about his cold fingers or something of that sort. "And her name is Hope."

"Well put Hope down and let's get outta here." Rose responded in a worried tone. "I'm beginning to get a craving for _buffalo wings._"

"Alright, alright! Keep your shirt on. _WELL, _on second thought… I really wouldn't mind if you didn't." Ian sniggered with that adorable grin of his. Rose glared, her hands resting on her hips.

"Later. _Maybe."_

"If I'm a good boy?" Rose turned away, hiding her response. "Oh, _fine_." Ian turned and released the chicken in the direction of its coop. Hope turned and clucked a good chain of profanities. Ian ran a hand through his hair. Not much embarrassed him anymore, but that kind of language could even make a Human/Time Lord Metacrisis blush.

"And so's _your_ mum," He mumbled back to the chicken.

**_Three hours later…_**

"So, what seems to be the problem, Mr…"

"The Doctor. NO, blimey, nine hundred and six and changed my name. Hope, that's the problem."

The doctor looked over his strange patient, covered in peck marks and what looked like quite a lot of very small stab wounds.

"Hope," he replied flatly, unable to believe his ears.

"Yeah, Hope. Thing with feathers on. Clucks."

"Chickens," clarified his wife. "He got attacked by chickens. One of them was called Hope."

"Ahh…" the doctor nodded as if he understood. "Well, Mr. Smith, we have no record of having your tetanus shot."

"Oh, I had it…. A couple hundred-I mean it's been a while. Yeah…"

The doctor blankly stared at the strange man on the bench. The nurse then entered, bearing the equipment needed for the procedure. Ian gulped as the needle glinted in the sterile fluorescent lighting. The nurse seized his arm, her grip seeming to crush his skin. The rubbing alcohol came as a freezing shock and he, whimpering, drew back.

"Not that arm," he insisted, turning the other way. She grabbed his other arm and repeated the process. Again, he moaned, his arm slithering out of her grasp. "Not that one either." He didn't make eye contact, choosing instead to stare at the quite boring painting on the wall. He couldn't tell what it was supposed to be, and considering he'd had lunch with every artist ever, that was saying something.

"Choose an arm, or it'll have to be somewhere… else," the nurse told him delicately. Rose snorted from the other end of the office. Ian turned his sulky glare on her, and she grinned as she looked away.

"Where else?" he demanded petulantly, crossing his arms to keep them away from her.

"Your butt," was her blunt reply.

"This arm."

Rose snorted again. The nurse gave him a reprimanding look, as if he was a naughty child. She snatched his arm, gripping it tighter than before, so that he might not slip away this time. "Now, hold still. This won't hurt a—"

"No! No, no, no, no, no…" Ian wriggled out of his seat, sliding to the floor and backing away from the big lady with the pointy thing. "Rooooose, make the-the BAD LADY go _away_!" he whined, grabbing his wife and pushing her in front of him.

"Never knew you were such a baby!" Rose scoffed, fighting the urge to grin at her silly husband's antics.

"I am _not_! I jus—Whoa…!" Two very large hands seized his arms, hauling him towards the nurse. "Reinforcements! Now that's cheating!" he hollered, wagging his index finger at her.

"Now hold him down. This'll only take a second…"

**_Three hours later…_**

"I can't believe you bit the security guard, Ian. That was kind of unnecessary." Rose said, taking her eyes off the road long enough to glance over at him. The sight of him, slouching in the passenger seat with a Hello Kitty band-aid on his arm and a lollipop in his mouth, sent her into another fit of giggles – her fifteenth since getting into the car.

"I dunno what _you're_ laughing at," he said with great dignity – and a grin. "I behaved perfectly considering the situation."

"_He_ had to get a tetanus shot too. And stitches."

"Yeah, well." He sniffed. "Needs must. It's a good lolly, anyway. Cherry. Want some?"

"No, you keep it." Rose couldn't help grinning.

"What are we doing for dinner?"

"How's chicken?"

"How many feather's it got?"


End file.
